From beside a sun-
paled bridge – enamel
petals falling, brickle
and bleached – I watch
the mounting satellite –
wan-creeping
above bitter horizon –
over looking-glass
spatters of rheumy
phosphorescence.
Numb and buoyant
in brittle air
I place a foot on
the echo-sheen lake
and walk to meet
the moon.
| crabmansmith on Love Death and the Crucial Thr… | |
| Will on Love Death and the Crucial Thr… | |
| crabmansmith on Love Death and the Crucial Thr… | |
| Mark S on Is this thing on? | |
| Will on Guya – Page 10 |
Recent Comments